Blessed is the Match
by Spacer Paste
Summary: Jim Kirk's feelings about birthdays & holidays? Bah Humbug. A Star Trek STR story written for the LJ K/S Advent 2016 event. PROMPTS: Jim finds out that Spock's mom was Jewish, & kept her faith even after marrying Sarek. For Hanukkah, Jim gives Spock eight different memories of his Mom's in & Sometimes wishing on a star does bring you what you want.


TITLE: Blessed is the Match

CHAPTER: Complete

AN: Written for the Live Journal 2016 Star Trek Advent event

Birthdays and Holidays, Bah Humbug The story written for K/S Advent 2016 with the following prompts for inspiration.

1\. Jim finds out that Spock's mom was Jewish, and kept her faith even when marrying Sarek. For Hanukkah, Jim gives Spock eight different memories of his Mom's in remembrance.

2\. Sometimes wishing on a star does bring you what you want

* * *

"Blessed is the match consumed in the kindling flame.

Blessed is the flame that burns in the heart's secret places.

Blessed is the heart with strength to stop its beating for honor's sake.

Blessed is the match consumed in the kindling flame."

 _Ashrei Hagafurer_ /Blessed is the Match —Hannah Senesh

* * *

It's my birthday.

And in case I forget, the hairline fracture on my cheek, cracked ribs, let's not forget the black eye and the generalized aches and pain earned from dropping several floors to a hard surface remind me. Coupled with the mess going on inside my head, I feel not just thirty-one years old but one hundred and thirty-one years old. I'm not going for drama here, and I don't give a damn about getting older. I don't. But, my ship is in pieces. A third of my crew is dead. It's this haunting feeling that I'm not using the time…my time…my life, the way it's meant to happen or destined to be, or some brand of zeno-Zen philosophical bullshit something or other. I know I fear that I'm only chasing my father's ghost. Maybe it's the ghosts of the other Kirk and Spock, too. I envy them, and that's ridiculous. Dad, Jim, and Spock, were you taunted by these doubts?

I shouldn't have put that stuff about darkness, empty space and questions about what The Federation is really doing out here in my log. No one is interested in my whiny ramblings, except the Mental Health Officer. Perfect. Whichever officer is in charge of reviewing the logs of Captain James T. Kirk will send my missive to the MHO, and I'll lose all hope of that Admiral billet. Bones accused me of recklessness. This last mission might have proved his theory.

While Bones and I walk along the main esplanade on Yorktown, that's what churns inside my head. Truthfully, he's the one doing the walking, and I'm following. The gentle squeeze of a hand on my shoulder brought me back to the present.

"Jim, you want that drink or not?" That friendly grin and warm hand—did he think I wouldn't notice—cleverly steered me into a building. I don't know if it's a bar. I just need a drink. Now. Why are there so many people blocking my way to the bar?

"Surprise!"

There they are, raising their glasses and smiling at me. Damn you, Bones. You always seem to know what I need before I ask for it. The necessary smile came easily. Someone handed me a drink, and here we go. Yeah, I guess I need a bit of cheering up. My crew. That's a different topic, different question. I'm in love with my crew. Is that possible? There's no one to ask, so I'll hang on to it as a positive and hold the grief of those we lost in my heart, 'cause that's my job.

I made my way through the crowd, a smile for everyone, a kiss on the cheek for Uhura, a firm handshake for Scotty and I resisted the urge to pat Chekov on the head. I'm not old enough to pat someone on the head, am I? The others wish me well, if not with words then with raised glasses and the kind regard in their eyes. While I nodded, shook hands and said thank you I searched the crowd for my first officer.

Always the calm center of any situation, he's never difficult to locate. Tall and straight, with that dark cap of hair reflecting the light. Today is different, different for many reasons, mainly because our Spock passed away. We hadn't shared that bit of news yet. As if, we needed one more thing to break our hearts.

There he is. He's trying to hide his grief, but I see it. It's there in the slight rounding of his shoulders, and the way he lifts his face toward the starlight. I grabbed each of us a drink and headed his way unsure if he'll welcome my intrusion. To hell with that. I need him. Need to be near him and reassure myself that I didn't almost make the decision to walk away from him, my ship, and the people I love. Maybe he'll tell me his news.

 _What if he's the one leaving?_

A bit of scotch sloshed on my hand. Then my toe hit some imaginary bump on the floor, and I landed at the table with all the grace of a shuttlecraft on empty. With a raised eyebrow, Spock rescued our drinks from my hands, carefully set them down, and met my eyes. The warmth of his silent affection embraced me, filling my chest with warmth. With a quiet sigh of relief, I leaned into it. I know he won't touch me without permission, but I need more, so I spread my fingers on the table and pressed my fingertips to his. Without looking at me, he crossed the little finger of his right hand over mine.

Other than picking each other off the ground of yet another strange planet or following our established protocol of saving each other's lives, we never actually touch. Not deliberately anyway. A hundred questions tossed in my mind. The scotch did nothing to calm or sort them into anything coherent. _What happened to you and Uhura? Are you leaving the ship? Do you intend to leave my side? What are you looking for in those stars?_ I can't ask him such personal questions. It's none of my business. He has a career and his people to think of. A week ago, I made plans to leave him and the ship. If his culture called him to New Vulcan, then I have no right to stop him. The third gulp of scotch sent my stomach churning and my emotions boiling to the surface.

He pressed his finger against mine, "Say what is on your mind, Jim. We have not shared our news."

"Yeah, that." Slender Vulcan fingers stopped my fourth drink of scotch. I set my glass down and considered how my usual bravado had just left the building. "Sorry, Spock. We should have had this conversation before now."

As I took a breath to launch into my well thought out speech. Who am I kidding? My head is a mess of thoughts and emotions. Lieutenant Uhura chose that moment to interrupt us. She leaned against Spock—not a careful professional lean, but a full body lean—and murmured, "Chag Urim Sameach."

My first officer turned his attention to her and nodded once. Then he did that thing with his eyes that put all the humans a half mile radius in their cosmic place. She got the idea and lowered her hands to her side. "Thank you, Lieutenant. The Captain and I have ship's business to discuss."

Had Spock just told a lie? I took the coward's way out and kept my head down studying the colors displayed in the swirl of my whiskey glass. I didn't look up until her footsteps faded away. Inexplicably jealous of Uhura's ability to share affection with him I reached for the solace of my scotch. A hand fell on my arm.

"Jim. Will you walk with me?"

 _Yes. Let's get the hell out of here._

We walked together silently, winding our way deeper into the parkland. I couldn't take the silence. I'll just start with something easy. Like something that's none of my business. Sounding more like an insecure teenager than a self-confident starship captain, I blurted, "About you and Uhura. Are you two…I mean are you still…?"

Spock bestowed that smile of his. That secret smile I tell myself, he reserved just for me. Uhura can have her own damn smile this one is mine. Don't leave me, Spock. Yeah, that's me. Captain Selfish Bastard. Hadn't I already left him once, by dying of radiation poisoning? I had orders to a posting with the Admiralty. I think they already had my office picked out. There's an email in my inbox about fabric colors and furniture. And hadn't I almost left him twenty-four hours ago? You know, I wouldn't blame him if he just wanted some peace and a break from watching me take yet another headlong rush into danger.

We are completely alone the trees and flowers surrounded us in an embrace of fragrance and silence. I experienced this intimacy with Spock several times on the ship. The first time, I felt awkward at the familiarity. He must have guessed at my discomfort and moved closer as if he understood. If this was a small sample of what he shared with Uhura, then I knew why she clung to the belief they had a future together.

 _Don't leave me, Spock._

"I believe the specifics of your abbreviated questions imply that you wish to know if the lieutenant and I are intimate."

"No…I meant to ask, to say…Someday you'll have to tell me what you're looking for when you look out at those stars." Come on Captain James T. Kirk, you can do this. "I wondered if you intended to leave... Did you, uh. Find what you were looking for…out there?" _So Spock, still banging my Comm Officer?_

A gentle finger touched my chin to lift my head. "I do not wish on stars, Jim. A charming tradition, however, the answers you or I seek are not revealed there. The answer to your question is the lieutenant and I have not been intimate since our meeting with Khan. Since you awakened…"

"Oh, I didn't know." Brilliant Kirk. Just brilliant. All that education.

"As I watched you die." He deliberately stopped himself from finishing the sentence and changed the subject. "My question to you is why do you wish to know? More accurately, why did you need to hear the answer from me? Ship's gossip does not exclude the first officer's personal life no matter how much he wishes otherwise."

I had to laugh at that. I wondered what my crew had to say about me. It was a fair question, and my reply came easily. "I understand, Spock. Last year I heard the senior officers held a pool to guess whom I was sleeping with. I bet you won."

"I did not participate," My first officer replied gravely and returned his gaze to the trees and shrubs.

Birthdays and holidays. Can't we just ignore them? At least he's talking to me, "Maybe ship's captains aren't allowed, and maybe that's just easier."

"Is it?" A hand on my sleeve so warm it was like a balm. How long had it been since I'd been touched? When the soothing emanations from Spock's mind began to creep up my arm, my mind reached for it. Reached for what? A mental hug? Help with sorting all this crap swirling around in my head? Before I could force myself to relax, the muscles in my forearm jerked his hand away.

"Is it what?" I asked searching for that glass of scotch.

"Easier to be alone."

"Yeah, I do and isn't that pathetic. What about you? You've experienced too much love and loss to be alone for long." Then I stopped breathing when his eyebrows climbed under his bangs, and he looked at me daring me to look away.

"I am not alone, Jim."

I snorted through my nose, but I wouldn't pretend to miss his meaning. "I'm a poor substitute for Uhura."

"Do not—what is the human saying—sell yourself short. Your crew worry that you are too alone,"

"Everyone has a shoulder to lean on except me, right?" I tossed back the remainder of my drink. "I think that comes with the job."

"That is not true, Jim."

Now, you wouldn't think I'd blush. _Change the damn subject._ While the heat crawled up my neck and over my heart pounding in my throat, I blurted out the first thing I could think of, "Hey, I heard about Spock. I think...I know...I understand how much he meant to you." Spock's eyes darted away and several seconds went before he answered.

"'Say not in grief, 'he is no more,' but in thankfulness that he was.'"

"Did you just make that up?" My first officer is also a philosopher...wait, of course, he is. He can recite Shakespeare, Surak, Milton, and Byron, without taking a breath. I've heard him do it and it's always in context.

"It is a Hebrew proverb. The phrase Uhura used was also Hebrew for Happy Festival of Lights."

Wait, I knew that. Just as I knew his mother was Jewish and wasn't this the first day of Hanukkah? I don't know any prayers and when I say that, I mean any prayers of any denomination.

"That's a good saying Spock. It doesn't make it hurt less."

I think I heard my Vulcan first officer sigh, "There were many questions I wished to ask him."

Thankfully, his attention is no longer on me. If he needs me, I can do that. It's those brown eyes that make my knees go soft as if he's about to make me admit something.

"Did I ever tell you about our mind meld?" Spock looked at me sharply. What's this, jealousy? I blundered on. "He felt we didn't have time for him to tell me in words, so he touched me. The force of his sadness was…" I managed to shut myself up before I gouged any more old wounds. The party seemed like a good place to separate me from my useless introspection. I don't want to be alone right now. My own thoughts gnaw at me and never all that good with self-analysis I'm left wondering what is the matter without answers. I left him standing there with a lame, "Sorry, Spock. Good night."

I rejoined the party only to discover my crew pairing off in search of dinner. After turning down a few invitations, I waited until the last of them walked away, ditched Bones and headed somewhere, anywhere away from here and the conflicting emotions. Speaking of ditching, maybe I should find Spock and apologize. An hour later, I'm sober. Too sober. This is why I hate celebrations; Sobriety solved nothing. Drunkenness solved nothing.

A few more yards of walking and I find myself in a long hallway, packed with vendors selling everything and I mean everything. There's a Tellurite leering at me with something in his hand. My eyes scanned the translations until I find the bottom line in Earth Standard: Sex Toys. I ducked my head and kept walking, not before I'm treated to a mouthful of teeth and a breathy grunt.

"Pretty human. Human likes toys?"

Two corners later, the crowds are gone, and I'm walking in shadows and swirling dust motes. It's as soundless as if the vendors have closed up for the night. So quiet, I wonder if there were ever vendors here at all. Strange place to sell stuff. My footsteps the only sound, I took a gulp of the dirty air and let my eyes adjust.

I see it. The light of what looks like a candle flame. Genuine candles aren't something we see much of anymore. My mother liked those scented candles. I always remember how my stepfather bitched about the cost and the stink. He bitched about everything. I never thought they smelled bad. Seeing his vintage Corvette at the bottom of a ravine kept him silent for many years. Score one for Jimmy and Mom.

That experience with my stepfather answered the universal question did getting whacked with a belt hurt. Yes. Yes, it did. Lesson learned; My real father had been a superhero, and my stepfather was Dr. Doom (Hey, I was just a kid). My mother, even to a child's eyes, was an unhappy woman. Confused as if she were never quite sure how she arrived in the soulless wasteland of Iowa, from the arms of a man she loved enough to give a child, to this brute. Lesson over.

With eyes on the flickering light, I walked slowly down the dark passageway. I heard a somber, 'Shalom,' before I noticed an elderly man with a long gray beard. Alone on a table, with all the other merchandise swept away stands a nine-pronged candelabra. The candle in the center is set higher than the others set and balanced between four unlit candles on each side. I have no idea what it is, and I hate not knowing things.

"Is that really silver?"

"You have sharp eyes, _mayn her_. The eyes of youth." He spread his arms in that universal gesture of welcome.

"Why is only one candle lit?" I asked and wonder how many times he's been asked that question.

"Tonight is the first night of Hanukkah. I was about to use this candle, the shamash to kindle the first light."

I'm so intrigued by his voice and the graceful movements of his hands. They moved with certainty. Like Spock's hands, long fingered and strong, whether he's punching me in the face, aiming a weapon or manipulating a computer console it's with strength and certainty of purpose.

"You smile with pleasure, young man."

"Yes, pleasure."

I had to admit it, although it hurt like hell when it happened. While I watch the old man's hands, I realized that Spock's hands would someday become bent with age. With a flash of memory or of the future, I know I'll be there when it happens. That our fingertips will touch when we're in public. We'll help each other and take care of each other. Exactly like we do now. The ground threatened to rise up to meet me. I grabbed hold of the man's table. How could I know that?

" _Zun_ , sit down. There is much that weighs on your heart tonight."

"I'm alright." I scrubbed my hand over my face and woke my aching jaw. The beginnings of a headache began to thump against the inside of my skull. "May I watch you light the candle and will you tell me the story of Hanukkah?"

"I see now," he murmured while he peered into my face. "It is not for me to tell you the story. It is for you to discover. I want you to take the menorah and share the celebration of the lights with the one who lives in your heart."

What is he talking about? I'm in no mood to ask more questions. I need one of those pain pills Bones gave me, a bed to crawl into, and a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. I let him press the silver piece into my hands along with a small bottle of oil. With no idea of what I'm supposed to do with this. I managed to wish him good night. I retraced my steps toward the lights of the Yorktown's main avenue and aimed myself at Visiting Officer's Billeting.

Yorktown's VOB bragged a full restaurant, a terrace for every two rooms, a gym, a private comm room, and a couple of classrooms. A hell of a lot nicer than some starbases we visited. Took me a few tries to get the door opened, when it finally gave I plunged gracefully into the darkened room. Then I nearly tripped over the luggage someone thoughtfully placed just inside the door where a tired man might find them. I kicked off my shoes, tossed my jacket in the general direction of a piece of furniture, and headed to the softly lit veranda. I found a chair, or it found me, and I tumbled into it. The silver candelabra fell out of my pocket and landed on the flagstone with a hollow metallic sound.

"Shit."

I let my head fall back on the chair and thought very hard about relaxing.

Some time later, could have been a few minutes or an hour, I felt a presence next to me. I tipped my head to the side, and there was Spock. Dressed all in black with a silver band around the high collar that ran down the front of the close-fitting tunic. Black was his color. When he glanced up at me, the stars reflected back their light from the depths of his dark eyes. I sucked in a breath.

"You are so beautiful, Spock," I sighed not really giving a damn if that was an inappropriate comment.

He didn't speak, just raised an eyebrow at me and retrieved the menorah. I watched him set it upright on the table between us pour a small amount of oil into one of the smaller bases and light the attendant candle.

"The _shamash_ ," I said.

"That is correct, Jim. Would you like to hear the prayer?"

"Very much."

Spock reached across the table and took my hand. When he began speaking, I'm transfixed by his tone of voice, so melodic and emotional tears stung my eyes. I envied him this memory and imagined him lighting the candles each night with his mother. Something special just the two of them shared.

"Jim, before lighting the Chanukah candles, we thank God for giving us this special mitzvah, and for the incredible Chanukah miracles.

Ba-ruch A-tah Ado-nai E-lo-he-nu Me-lech Ha-olam she-a-sa ni-sim la-avo-te-nu ba-ya-mim ha-hem bi-zman ha-zeh.

Ba-ruch A-tah Ado-nai E-lo-he-nu Me-lech ha-olam a-sher ki-de-sha-nu be-mitz-vo-tav ve-tzi-va-nu le-had-lik ner Cha-nu-kah."

After he lit the candle, he raised his eyes to mine and reached out to touch my cheek. "This is a time of celebration, Jim. Not a time of grieving. Take heart from the ritual and know that whatever comes we are here, together, at this moment sharing the miracle."

"Can you translate for me?"

He smirked as if I insulted him. It was a game we played. Harmless, really.

"Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Chanukah light. Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time. On the first night of Chanukah, it is customary to add the following blessing.

Ba-ruch A-tah Ado-nai E-lo-he-nu Me-lech Ha-olam she-heche-ya-nu ve-ki-yi-ma-nu ve-higi-a-nu liz-man ha-zeh - Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion."

After he lit the candle, I moved over so he could join me on the chaise lounge. When he settled beside me, I linked my arm through his and allowed my head to rest on his shoulder. We sat side by side, shoulders touching watching the candle flicker until spent of oil it flickered out. A lovely ceremony. Ancient and relevant and so human to reach out, to connect and celebrate that connection. Spock pulled something from the table across from us. It was a small leather case with the Starfleet insignia embossed on the cover. Without speaking, he opened it over my legs. I felt him go very still beside me as if he knew what was coming.

I stopped him from turning the page. "Spock, I understand if you need to head to New Vulcan." That needed to be said, but the answer terrified me. Every word, every gesture and the sound of his voice opened me and filled my heart. So that when he finally answered my eyes burned with gratitude.

"There are many paths to the answers we seek, Jim."

Spock framed my face with his hand. When I saw his eyes widen, I pulled away.

"You don't need to expose yourself to my crazy thoughts, Spock. That's too much to ask."

"Jim, the Admiralty is not the place to sate your wanderlust. I believe our path is seeking those answers together. The thoughts you worry will upset me serve to remind me the universe is full of adventure and promise." Spock turned slightly to embrace me and then grazed his lips across my cheek, "And, I cannot bring myself to leave your side. Ani L'Dodi V'Dodi Li."

That one I knew. I knew it because my mother kept a picture of my father hidden in a drawer. Over the bottom half of the picture, written in my father's hand were those words, Ani L'Dodi V'Dodi Li - I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine.

I caught his cheek before he could turn away. Touched his nose and ears with my fingertips. I brushed my thumb over his lips and whispered, "Beloved."

He let out a long breath and closed his eyes. When we were ready, we turned our attention to the book and he flipped the page with the picture of the Spock we knew to a different picture. Under my shoulder, I felt his breath hitch. I slid my arm around his waist. After he had opened the new page, I wove my fingers into his trembling hand. With every breath, we sank into each other. I think there might be tears on my face, but he pretended not to notice. Relaxed against each other, under the enduring lights of our stars, we gazed down at the image.

A younger Spock, a little older than my Spock standing with his crew. How handsome they were in their red uniforms. Courageous and beautiful they stared at the camera sure with the knowledge that no path was closed to them, no treasure undiscoverable and no wrong that could not be righted.

Shalom, dear readers.

* * *

Shalom: Meanings of Shalom

"Say not in grief, 'he is no more,' but in thankfulness that he was." Hebrew Proverb

Blessed is the Match, Hannah Szenes

Ani L'Dodi V'Dodi Li "I am My Beloved's, and My Beloved is Mine." Shir HaShirim/Song of Songs 6:3 Song of Songs

Chanukah - How to Light the Menorah


End file.
